


Pure as Water

by betabee



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Naiad!Belle, Spinner!Rum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4516434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betabee/pseuds/betabee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the prince accidentally offends the local water spirit, a plague is unleashed. Only one pure of heart and true of spirit can save them, but can he be found in time to save the people?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pure as Water

The king’s son knew he was in trouble when he somehow managed to offend the city’s resident Naiad in the traditional yearly offering by commenting on her physique. She lashed out a whip of water at the piles of books gifted by the people (beautifully illustrated manuscripts that they knew she was partial to) and flooded the square where her fountain resided.  
He knew he was in serious trouble when reports filtered back to the palace of people getting sick all over the city; of well water turning green and murky, of cholera and diarrhea, of people lying in the streets sick with fevers and sweating. His father had many a choice word to say to his son about the people’s welfare, and rather reluctantly, he pulled on his gleaming armor and trudged down to the Naiad’s square with half a dozen of his finest knights.  
She sat in the only pool of clear water left in the city, facing the centre of the fountain with one of her favourite carvings. Another whip of water, however, prevented the party of knights from getting within 5 feet of the fountain.  
“Have you come to plead for your miserable lives, Sir prince?” She asked in a disinterested voice. “It won’t get you anywhere, you know. Not after the comments you made. You really ought to have more respect.”  
“Milady, I’m sorry, I truly am!” The prince tried to rise to his feet again, but was swiftly knocked down again by the ribbon of water.  
“Spare me your apologies. The damage is done.”   
Another knight nearby made his way around to see her face. Despite her studious examination of the statue, her face was full of fury.  
“Please, milady…” the knight ventured, careful not to approach any closer. “The people of the city are dying. Is there anything you can do to heal them?”  
“Your ignorant prince brought this plague down upon you!” She hissed at the knight with a biting anger in her eyes, but after a moment her face softened. “Bring this message to your king. If there is a man in this city who is pure of heart and true of spirit, then I shall reverse the tide of this sickness upon his request. Furthermore, this man who is pure of heart shall be the new heir to your king’s throne, since this one-” she pointed at the prince lying prone on the cobblestones across the square- “is clearly not a gentleman enough to be a prince, let alone rule a country.” And with that proclamation, she sank back into her fountain, the water receding to leave a dry well of rock.

***

Over the next day or so, many a knight from the court came down in grand pomp and procession to try and talk to the Naiad; it was the talk of the court ever since the knight delivered his message to the king in the great hall, dragging the unconscious prince behind him. But the Naiad would see none of the knights; the pond remained as empty as it had been the day before, with the exception of a few clumps of algae here and there.  
The courtiers came the next day, with all their minstrels in tow; they serenaded the empty fountain with violins and flutes and lutes and every sweet instrument they could find in the palace. Many a pretty poem was read out, the finest books were piled up around the fountain, but still no sign of her was seen, and as the sun set, the courtiers wended their way back to the palace in defeat to feast and ponder on what went wrong.  
The day after that, the king was desperate enough to send the town criers out with the Naiad’s message; if no-one in the palace was of good enough heart to please the Naiad, maybe one of the common folk in the city would be- the merchants, the craftsmen, the farmers that worked the fields around. The people in the city were dropping like flies; the guards had to close the gates to prevent people running to the country and potentially spreading the plague to other cities, for no-one else deserved this sickness to ravage their lands.  
The common folk came to the fountain that day, with the finest of their crafted goods and wares, with the books and stories they knew she liked and the best of the start of the harvest. The square around the fountain was now filled with goods left by the people, but still the well itself remained empty of the Naiad. The people dispersed at sunset to their taverns, to drink ale and mourn the demise of their city, for if they, with their goods and wares and books, with their simple hearts and hale spirits, were unable to sate her anger, who would?

***

The city was not Rumpelstiltskin’s ideal choice of home. Ideally, he would have a small farm a few miles from the sea, with a reasonably sized flock of sheep and a cow, and with a small cozy hut for him and his precious boy to live in. Instead, he had a cramped apartment which barely had room for his spinning wheel, a small fire, and the cot which he and Bae shared. They used to have a bigger space, but word of his cowardice in the city’s last major war had never quite stopped following him around. He and his son had been chucked out of the last two apartments they had rented, and Rum was being increasingly careful where he sold his thread to these days.  
He hadn’t sold a single bolt of thread for the last four days, however. His son had a terrible, terrible fever, and today had vomited a nauseating black bile. Whale, the doctor in the apartment next door, had poked his head in the day before, and told him about the sickness going all around town.  
“Gaston went and offended our Naiad, I’ve heard. That boy just doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.” Was all the commentary Rum got on the cause before Archie declared that Bae’s fever was identical to the twelve other cases Whale had seen earlier that day. “You’d better hope the Naiad revokes it soon,” Whale said, “Because I’ve seen fevers going on that long fell much greater men than your boy. He’s lucky to still be alive.”  
Rumpelstiltskin had heard no news of the curse being broken that day, and Bae was still getting worse. At the fourth bout of vomiting in the depths of the night, he reluctantly asked Granny Lucas, the owner of the apartments, to watch over his boy.  
“I was thinking of getting him some ale from the tavern- he needs water, but I daren’t give him the green stuff that passes for water these days.” He mumbled to her has he slipped out into the night. She gave no indication of listening as he limped out the door, his every other step heavy despite the help of his stick.  
The moonlit streets were a lot quieter than usual; most people were either helping those with the plague or had the plague themselves, and the mood for visiting taverns was far past at this hour of the night. He quietly made his way to the Naiad’s square, eyes darting to avoid pickpockets in the shadows and ready to start a limping run at a moments notice.  
He thought his eyes were deceiving him when he entered the square; the amount of goods piled around did not surprise him, but the glistening pool of water lit by the full moon did. The Naiad was sat on the edge of the fountain, picking up this and that to inspect in the moonlight. He silently hobbled around the square near to where she sat, and she seemed not to notice him.  
“M-Milady…?” He spoke quietly, almost whispering, but this was still enough to startle her. She whipped her head around, gave a soft ‘Oh!’ of surprise, and dropped the delicate porcelain cup currently between her fingers.  
He tried to catch it- the stick clattered to the ground, the cup made a delicate chipping sound as it hit the cobbles, and his knee screamed in agony as he picked the cup up from the floor, the moonlight highlighting the triangular wedge missing from the edge. He lifted it so she could see the chip, hands and knee shaking slightly.  
“I- I- I’m so sorry, Milady. It- It’s chipped.” He carefully looked into her face, expecting wrath, but only saw amusement. She tugged on his arms, pulling him up with unexpected strength to perch on the edge of the fountain next to her.  
“Don’t worry about it. I’m the one who should be sorry. I wasn’t paying attention- I didn’t think anyone would be visiting at this hour of the morning!” She said with a chuckle.  
“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you too much. I’ll go-” he made to pick up his stick, but was pulled back to sit on the ledge again. He turned to see her watching him with an openness he hadn’t expected.  
“You’re not disturbing me, sweetie. All this-” she gestured around at the gifts piled around the square- “will still be here tomorrow. Now, what’s your name, sweetie?” she plucked the chipped cup from his hands, placed it to one side on the fountain’s edge, then enfolded his calloused hands in her cool, gentle ones.  
“R- Rumpelstiltskin, my lady.” He replied, watching her face carefully.  
“That’s an unusual name, I don’t think I’ve heard that one before!” she smiled and chuckled slightly. “So, Rumpelstiltskin- do you mind if I shorten it? Is Rumple ok?”  
“Yes?” he almost squeaked. He’d only shortened it to Rum previously, not that there’d been many opportunities for people to give him nicknames. Her closeness was unnerving.  
“Okay. Rumple- why did you come to my fountain at this hour? Why didn’t you come with everyone else?”  
He took a breath. Her face showed concern rather than anger, a slight sadness rather than the wrath the other citizens had been describing. He could do this.  
“It’s my boy. He’s sick. He’s had a fever for four days straight. I don’t want him to die. Not my boy.” The last sentence was accompanied by a sob. “I can’t lose him. I lost his mother, I lost my reputation so I could be a good father for him. He’s my world. I don’t think I could cope if he…” His sentences descended into silent tears, and cool arms wended around him to stop him falling off the well’s edge as his whole body shook.  
It was a few minutes before he regained his composure; a ridiculously fine embroidered handkerchief was presented under his nose, and when he looked around his staff was propped up by his side against the fountain. He turned back to the Naiad at his side.   
“My lady? This sickness is doing no-one any good. Your people are dying over one man’s ill-thought words. My boy is dying over one man’s ill-thought words. Please.”  
She gazed into his eyes for a few moments; her pupils seemed to go wider in the moonlight, and then, so quietly he wasn’t quite sure he heard it, she said, “Very well.”  
“What?” he said in quiet surprise. “You’ll do it? You’ll heal my boy?”  
“I will heal them all, for a price.” She said, a small smile gracing her lips at his bewilderment.  
“That- that’s fantastic!” He said, a smile breaking through for a second. “But what’s the price?”  
She considered the question for a moment, before muttering, “All magic comes with a price, Rumple, and mine is usually paid for in emotions. I used my anger to fuel the making of this curse, so love should break it…” she thought for a moment more, and Rumpelstiltskin became increasingly concerned.   
“A kiss.” She said. “A kiss should be enough.” He stared at her with shock.  
“Y- You want to kiss… me?” The Naiad gave him a look. “B- But I don’t even know your name. A- And I’m not what you want. You could do so much better than me. I’m not handsome, I’m not rich, all I have is my boy!”  
“And your heart, Rumple.” She seized him by the shoulders, forcing him to look in her face. “Your heart is as pure as the water in this fountain, your spirit truer than any in the land. None of those who visited here before you were here purely for saving the people, but wanted the crown for themselves- I could see it in their hearts and in the gifts they brought. But you- you came with nothing but the truth on your lips and love in your heart.” Her gentle smile was as bright as the moonlight.  
He felt slightly dazed. “I still don’t know your name.” He mumbled.  
She cupped his cheek gently. “It’s Belle.” She almost whispered, before bringing her lips to his.  
The kiss lasted mere moments but felt like a lifetime; the tender pressure left nearly as soon as it had arrived. Belle gently let go of his arms, before turning and slipping back into the pool, taking the chipped cup with her.  
Rumpelstiltskin sat on the side of the fountain for a few moments more, before taking his stick and slowly making his way back home to his now quietly-sleeping son.

***

The city woke up to streams of fresh water in the aqueducts and fountains; to patients that were on the brink of death the night before now with rosy cheeks and feeling hale; and to a small note left on the edge of the fountain, saying:  
‘The curse is broken now. Do not disturb me again for another year and a day.’  
The curse-breaker, in the end, remained anonymous, and when the king died, his disgraced son did not ascend the throne, but his cousin (a mild-mannered young man from two cities over) took his place. Many people speculated about how the three day plague was ended, and about who ended it, but no-one ever knew.  
No-one, that is, apart from the quiet figure who visited the Naiad’s fountain on odd moonlit nights, sitting by her side, and drinking tea out of an odd pair of cups.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading! Find me on tumblr at hedwighood. All comments and kudos appreciated :-)


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